


It's All I'll Ever Have

by NewDestinyToTheGrave



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Existential Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, this really isn't a ship that's a very background thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewDestinyToTheGrave/pseuds/NewDestinyToTheGrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aren’t we all just names, though, even to the people that matter? He doesn’t pretend to be perfect, and trust me, nobody thinks he is, but on days when those closest to him feel far away, he wonders if he wasn’t this name, if he wasn’t this backstory, if he wasn’t this fabricated life, would they still be there? Would he still be here? Would he have ever been here?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All I'll Ever Have

Everybody loves a tragic backstory.

That’s why Black Star is interesting, after all; he grew up alone, with only tales (and none of them good) of his family to get him by, but still he managed to be a successful assassin and meister. A real rags-to-riches story, he had, but one that he never identified with.

So what do you do when you have no one to turn to? You build someone yourself, out of the scrapes and bruises of your own person. That’s what Black Star did, and that’s why he only ever seems to have one setting- arrogant, obnoxious kid who doesn’t know when to shut up.

Is that who he is, really? Maybe. Maybe it’s been too long to tell. Maybe this is wrong, and there never was anybody underneath that in the first place. Maybe he doesn’t remember who he used to be. (Maybe who he used to be doesn’t exist in any form anymore.)

Don’t be dramatic, he tells himself, but he never listens, and slowly but surely, he stops caring. He has two faces, and the real Black Star (or is it the dead one, now?) doesn’t like to talk. He doesn’t like to do much of anything, really. All he knows is that people will always leave you, so the best defense mechanism is to build yourself up and push them away before they can push you away.

Is that sad? Is he sad? No, well, not often, well, not usually.

Well, not always.

Actually, he’s great. He’s never felt better, but maybe that doesn’t say a lot. He’s got friends, ambition, and enough skills to evoke envy from nearly anyone. Let’s not pretend he doesn’t hear them talking, though. About how he’s more beast than boy, about how he’s lucky to be so physically gifted, because it almost makes up for the air filling his head.

Almost.

He’s just a name. If you asked Soul who he was, he wouldn’t say, “My friend”, he’d say, “Black Star,” and maybe that distinction doesn’t matter, but maybe it does.

Aren’t we all just names, though, even to the people that matter? He doesn’t pretend to be perfect, and trust me, nobody thinks he is, but on days when those closest to him feel far away, he wonders if he wasn’t this name, if he wasn’t this backstory, if he wasn’t this fabricated life, would they still be there? Would he still be here? Would he have ever been here?

And what does “close” mean, anyway? Does it mean nearby, or does it just mean not quite as distant as everyone else? Maybe other stars are impossible to reach, but that doesn’t make the sun close. Like the sun, he thinks that if anyone was any closer, they wouldn’t be happy anymore. They’d overheat. They’d lose themselves because his mere presence became too earth-shatteringly loud.

Happiness- what is that? Surely, it’s what Black Star has- has had- for a long time. And he can’t deny that he feels things; when Kid rings the doorbell and he looks through to see him adjusting his shirt, a slight red tinge to his cheeks, well, he’s not sure what it is, but he feels something. He doesn’t want it to go away. He doesn’t want him to go away. 

But since we’re all just names in the end, and since Black Star knows that- has always known that- he doesn’t pursue anything. His confidence becomes a coping mechanism, but he’s not sure what he’s even trying to cope with. He doesn’t remember his family, he’s never had huge problems, and he knows how to handle his thoughts (it’s simple, really, once you turn the lights back on), so if he’s being honest, nothing's the matter.

But sometimes a clock will chime, and he can’t move, and he can’t breathe, but he can, he must be able to, because there’s no one there and surely somebody, anybody, would be there if he really was as frozen as he feels. Then once again he’s unsure, because maybe nobody’s there because he’s right, and nothing’s happened, and he just needs to shut himself off again and recover, but maybe nobody’s there because he’s still just a name and even when he thinks he’s gotten past that it turns into the only thing running through his mind again, again, and oh, god, now it’s happening again, again (or maybe it’s not) and either way it doesn’t matter because when has it ever mattered?

Anyway. His chest hurts all the time now. He doesn’t remember deciding to feel, at least, it certainly wasn’t an executive decision, but now he’s not sure he wants to go back. Decisions come with all their little strings attached and that’s why he despises them, but then he remembers that strings can unravel and break and the power to destroy them lies in him, so there’s no point in avoiding them. (And sometimes those strings wrap their way around your heart and sometimes they have their own names to define them and sometimes that name is attached to a shinigami with his own shortcomings.)

He’s not saved. Did he ever need to be? He’s not saved, not yet, but he has a foothold, and that’s a start.

And then one day, when maybe the outside Black Star has gone away for a bit, and maybe he’s made more for himself than a name, he makes a real, important decision, and suddenly the strings are choking him, but they’re not, they’re touching his skin and he can breathe. His bones are made of ice and Kid’s strings are fire, and he’s not sure he wants to melt but he sure loves the warmth.

The whispers are still there, the ache is still there, the thoughts are still there, and a lot has changed, but a lot is still the same. Who cares if he’s just a name, who cares if that’s all he’ll ever be? There are a thousand ways a name can be said, and he sure likes the way his friends- no, his family, his real family (because if he never knew the original, doesn’t that make this the best?)- say his. And he is still underground, but he can see a path to the top, and he’s started his climb, and there’s light filtering in and if that isn’t the sun then it sure as hell has to be something better.

Everybody loves a tragic backstory, but everybody wants a better future.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lot of rambling, but I felt like it fit what I wanted to write well. Sorry the ship isn't the main thing, but I have a lot of feelings about Black Star and I will definitely be writing things in the future about him and him alone. If you liked it, pleeeassee leave a kudos or comment (please) on this, and I will be forever grateful.


End file.
